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Morning Again…
I have my newspaper in my hand, coffee mug on my table
Cigarette on my lips, smoke unfurled in my brain.
Somebody knocks on the door, the sweeper has cleaned the stairs
The cat is playing with a cockroach, I forgot to bring the mosquito killer
What’s the use of all these rituals in the morning?
My Sundays are all that dull and boring.
On Sundays, I never go to the market like my friends
They buy hilsa or mutton, green mango, and all the black grapes
Today no shaving and I curse my face that grows hair
But I love the hair of my sweetheart wherever it grows
She does not like it except on her head and goes every week to salon
We differ on this point, but we have no differences as such
Conjugal life should not have such differences
To remove such evils from your life is not a hard task
If needed you wear the mask, the painted mask.
Morning Again...
The coffee mug is finished, cigarette burning my lips
I am an addict of Facebook, I love to see the video clips
Posting images is not a crime
But it is, if you share and like them in your duty time
Morning has now passed away
I won’t stand before the mirror all day
Seconds, minutes, and hours to go
I have nothing to do, nor to show
I have not shaved, and morning passes away
But I notice that I am all grey in one day.
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